Keeping Memories Alive...

Keeping memories alive...when someone we love dies, we often fear that we will forget them.  We fear that we may forget what they look like, their fragrance, their smile or the sound of their laughter.  For a while, those were my fears, I remember a dream I had with Rachel shortly after her death; it was a still photo.  I awoke that morning thinking why a photograph, why was it a image of her only?  What did it mean?  Looking back now I realize that it was my fear of forgetting her, of not having my daughter physically present, only her photographs.  But in time, I have come to realize that I haven't forgotten her, will never forget her, I can't forget her.  She is on my mind each and every day, and simple things remind me of her presence.  Ironically I hear her laughter in her sister's laugh, I see her playfulness in my grandson's antics, and recognize her ways in things her brother does.  So many subtle reminders that she is still very much a part of my life.

There are so many ways we can honor and keep alive the memories of those we love.  As we approach our Memorial Day Holiday (United States), we remember all those who have died to keep us free.  We remember also our loved ones, who shaped us and helped us become the persons we are.  This upcoming weekend affords us the ability to remember not only our fallen heroes, but all the heroes in our lives. 

But it does not have to be contained in one weekend per year, we can honor and remember our loved ones in various ways throughout the year.  In my city, we have memorial runs for deceased members of the community;  my brothers participate in motorcycle runs for various causes in memory of my dad, and others who have died from cancer; to name just a few.  I honor my daughter's love of life, people and sharing by writing and sharing her story through my blog.  Others have set up scholarships, community drives, planted a garden or tree, and so many other ways that are too numerous to list.  

Photo published with permission of Normand Fontaine.

Recently a friend, along with his family and friends, honored the memory of his wife, Janice, by participating in a fund-raiser, Purple Stride, to help find a cure for pancreatic cancer.  It was something he knew that his wife would not only love, it would have been something she would do, and that she would be cheering them on.  To make the day even more memorable, he had T-shirts made with a photo of Janice and what she meant to the wearer.  It was a wonderful day in which he was surrounded by a loving family and wonderful friends, as you can see from the faces in the photo he forwarded to me.  And I truly believe Janice was smiling down upon them, very proud of all of them.

We are only limited to our own limitations when it comes to honoring and remembering our loved ones.  Like anything else in our grieving, it is finding what is best for YOU, and what you are comfortable with.  A simple memory garden may be all you wish to do; visiting the grave and insuring that there are always fresh flowers or that it is neatly groomed; all these are gestures of remembrance.  They all serve to remind us that the person we love, the person who died, is still very much an important part of our lives; that they are not forgotten, and they remain ever present in our hearts.  Love is felt even over the chasm that is left by death.  We feel their presence, walking beside us, in even the most subtle of ways, and our memories and what we do to relive them, reinforces the love we shared and continue to share with our loved one.

May your memories bring you comfort, and may we always remember our heroes, both national and personal.  May their strength and courage serve as a reminder that we all survive,

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Invitation:  Please feel free to share your own memorial/remembrance stories and photos here on the blog.  So many of us gain insight and information from others.  A journey shared makes the distance feel so much shorter.  Thank you!

Wow! Really! is that the only thing you can say?

Why do simple phrases set me off?  Often I will hear people speak about what can get under their skin.  Anything from certain sounds (fingernails on chalkboards instantly come to mind), smells, or cliche phrases that seem to slip from lips unbidden, to mention just a few. 

Thinking back to Rachel's death and the days, weeks and months that followed, I remember certain things and words that would irk me to no end.  For me it was - 'be patient' or 'have patience;' - WHAT! my mind would scream.  Why do I need to be patient? 

Yet now reflecting back on those days (I still do not care much for the phrase, and you will not catch me using it when speaking to someone who is grieving) I think I understand why it bothered me so.  I had no patience, I wanted answers and I wanted them now.  My own inner turmoil caused so much impatience with myself, why could I not function, why was thinking, and doing and being so difficult.  People around me added to the mix, I grew impatient with them for not getting it, for not trying to understand my pain, for not being there.  Impatience surrounded me, so when someone said a simple 'be patient' I would lose it internally, luckily only voicing my dislike of the phrase to people who were at least patient with me.  There were a host of other phrases, words and expressions that got to me as well, as I am sure you can think of one or two yourselves.     

In those dark early days of grief, we are trying to breathe, to get by, to understand, and when we hear, see or are reminded in anyway of our uncertainty and confusion, we feel angered.  Angered at the source for the reminder; angered at ourselves for being so befuddled, and angered at the situation we find ourselves in.  It is the frustration that causes our reaction and disdain, it reminds us of how vulnerable we are, and how uncertain our lives can be. 

In time we find our reactions ease up, we may still not care for this stimulus, but we at least tolerate it, and keep it to ourselves.  We begin to understand the underlying meaning of what it represents, and start to find ways of coping and getting through it.  For me it was learning to give myself time; time to accept Rachel's death; time to allow myself to grieve at my own pace; time to teach myself to be patient with me and in turn, with others.  It was not and has not been easy, there are still occasions when I want to scream; when I want the answers right now; when nothing is making sense.  But if grief has taught me anything is that we do have to be 'patient' with ourselves; we do have to give ourselves 'space;' and most importantly, allow ourselves to heal using whatever methods work best for us.  Whether it be journaling through our loss, writing our story, or simply helping others; we find ways of making it safely across the abyss that is grief.

When a statement, comment or any other stimulus causes any anxiety; stop! and ask yourself:  Why does this get to me so?  Where am I right now in the midst of all this confusion?  What remains unanswered for me?  Is it a personal reflection of how I feel?  Sit quietly and reflect on these questions or any other questions you wish to formulate, and allow yourself the luxury of letting go.  For me, I would journal with these questions, writing whatever flowed from my thoughts onto the blank pages before me.  Often when I was done writing, I would not read what I wrote, I would simply close my journal and not give it another thought.  This simple exercise freed me up to move on to something else, it was load-lifting for me; a great way to get rid of all the extra baggage I was carrying.  

You may not be a writer and that's okay, just simply reflecting on the questions you formulate, it also a great help.  Like anything else in grief, you need to find what works for you, and only YOU know what that is.  Remember always to be kind to yourself, to give yourself all the time you need, and to take care of yourself both physically and emotionally.  Also finding others who are willing to listen, who understand the journey you are on, can and is an immense help during difficult times.  Reaching out to others helps everyone involved.  Grief may leave us feeling lonely but we do not have to be alone.  

So the next time you feel frustrated, angered or think the world is out to get you, stop and allow yourself to take a deep breath, and know that you will be okay and that you are not alone - ever!;  your loved one is right there beside you guiding you through this journey.  

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Strangers on the surface only...

It is not too often that we see charity played out in our day-to-day lives, but I recently not only witnessed it, but experienced the most beautiful manifestation of this act at it's finest.  This post is not about my journey through grief, but how we truly matter to each other, even in death.  It demonstrates how intricately we are all connected, and how the death of a total stranger left a lasting impression on me and others present on that fateful day.  This is an excellent example of how a simple man's death brought a community together...

  “We are One Body…”

Every once in a while we are given small glimpses of heaven; today was such a day.  Earlier in the week I had been told by my pastor that a gentleman had died, and that sadly he had no family or friends.  He explained that the funeral director had called him, and wondered if he would be willing to say a few words at the grave.  Strongly believing that every child of God deserves a proper funeral complete with Mass, he told him that he would have a funeral Mass for this man.  The response was not out of the ordinary, “Father, it will just be you and I at this Mass.” 

But our pastor is a determined man, and began to share this man’s story.   He reached out to the parish community, via the St. Vincent de Paul Society; the Charismatic Prayer Group; Parish Council; Music Ministry; basically any one he came in contact with.  He spoke to the principal at the parish school and elicited her help as well.  He asked me to get the word out, knowing I would use my Facebook connections to reach as many people as possible.  He simply reached out on behalf of this man, for this man.  I promised I would help spread the word, but was not sure if I would be able to attend; but would do my best to be there. 

This man’s funeral was held at 9 a.m. few days later; I arrived a few minutes early.  There were a few people already gathered and I thought to myself, this is a good number of people.  As I sat waiting for Mass to begin, slowly more people began to enter the church filling in the seats all around me.  About a few minutes before the Mass began, the students, faculty and staff of the school made their way to their reserved seats. 

Music programs were distributed bearing the name of the deceased, and for all outward appearances the church was filled with family and friends of the deceased.  It looked like any other funeral I had attended, so what made this one so different.  This man was unknown to any one of us gathered; we knew nothing about him other than his name.  He too, more than likely did not know anyone present.  Yet here we all were. 

To my amazement, when the funeral Mass began, the church was full, a special occasion kind of full.  I could feel a profound sadness at this man’s plight, but also an overwhelming joy at how people can and had pulled together when there is a need.  I felt a connection to this man that I cannot or will not try to explain.  There was a special bond, a profound unity with the deceased and everyone present at this Liturgy.  We truly were one body, we were the arms and legs, the eyes and hands, we were ‘Church’ in the truest sense of the word.  This was the true definition of “universal church,” this is the community the Apostles speak of in Acts. 

As I headed back to work, I could not help but think to myself, this is Church, this is the family I am proud to be a part of.  This is what keeps me rooted to my faith, it is these and other simple, yet profound acts of mercy and charity, that remind me of why I am Catholic, why we are in fact considered the “universal church,” and why I call my faith community – home. 

My sincerest gratitude goes out to the many parish communities that were present; several of the area churches were represented.  People from all walks of life sat together as one, in communion with one of our own, one of our baptized brothers.  This was by far one of the most beautiful experiences I have had, this was a magnificent image of Christ represented in his body the Church. 

All this because one man truly believes we are all brothers and sisters in Christ through our Baptism.  

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Oh no you didn't! You had to go there, didn't you!

There are so many taboos in life, so many things that a person can't do, or things that can't be discussed.  Death and dieing are just one of many topics that are skimmed over, not to be discussed.  Yet like taxes, death is a certainty in our lives.  

Recently I was asked to speak to teenagers about death; friends of theirs had experienced the death of a loved one, and the adults felt that it might be a good time to open it up to questions.  Interestingly enough, with the invitation, came hesitation.  What would I talk about?  What details would I share?  What if the parents are uncomfortable with all this?  Was it possibly an over reaction to what was happening?  What if this was a foreshadowing or omen?  So many questions, so many fears spoken and unspoken, but yet this is a very normal reaction to this topic.  As it is with so many similar topics - sex, religion, politics, etc., any subject matter that involves personal opinion, or societal restrictions. To allay any concerns, I simply extended the invitation to any parent or adult that wish to attend. 

The words from a recent Boston Globe article, 'Finding a better way to die' by Dr. Ira Byock, sums up what our society perceives - 'There is this real superstition in our supposedly scientifically sophisticated society that if we talk about death we're going to make it true, and if we don't talk about it, somehow we're protected.'  

Yet death does happen, every day, in every corner of the world, to rich or poor, young or old, healthy or sick.  Death does not discriminate, and we are no more safe from it's grasp than our neighbors or friends.  So whether we choose to silence the conversation, or discuss it, has no bearing on any outcomes.  As a mother who has had to bury her daughter knows all too well, death makes the game plan and sets the rules, we are simply pawns.

Why do I bring all this up?  I feel it is important to allow questions to be answered, to listen to concerns, to allay fears.  When my daughter died, I could not help my other children because I was too embroiled in my own emotional state.  I was no help to myself, let alone anyone else.  One thing I did urge and encourage my children to do, was find someone they could talk to; councilors at school, close friends, family, etc.  What I have come to learn, is that if we don't talk about it, than our imaginations take over and creates a myriad of scenarios.  It is the unanswered questions that lead to restless nights filled with all sorts of nightmares.  Not that there is always answers, but at least acknowledging the death and talking about it, makes it easier to cope with.

As I spoke and shared my story with these young people, I could sense the relief from the adults in the room.  I had managed to discuss a 'taboo' subject without upsetting anyone, well almost anyone.  I began my talk with a simple reminder that 'loss' comes in so many forms, that death is not the only thing we grieve.  Grief, I explained, resulted from change - from parents divorcing; going to a new school; saying good-bye to a friend who is moving away; having a loved one serving in the armed forces; loss of home security/stability; dealing with a family member who is terminally ill; and so many more too numerous to mention here.  Death of course being the most difficult grief to cope and deal with. 

At the end of my talk, I found that there weren't too many questions, however, teens and adults as well took as many handouts as they could, focusing on what was relevant to them.  

If you now someone who is trying to get through a loss, let them know it is okay to talk about it.  Don't be afraid that you won't know what to say, or may not have any answers.  They are not looking for answers necessarily, but for someone who is willing to listen.  And if questions do arise that you cannot answer, its okay to let them know that you don't know, but try to help them find ways to get the answer they need.  Support groups, I can't emphasize that enough, are a great resource for anyone going through a difficult time, regardless of the cause of their grief.  

If you are the one coping with loss, find a willing ear, a hand to hold, and talk.  If you have no one you feel comfortable enough with, find counseling or a support group.  Trust me when I tell you, talking and sharing my story, my feelings, my emotions and confusion, has been a great help to me, helping me to continually move forward. Not everyone feels that this subject is off-limits or taboo, and when you find someone who understands, allow yourself the luxury of speaking from the heart.  

 Our burdens and the burdens of others are so much easier to bear, when we ask for help, or offer help.  'There is no better exercise for the heart than reaching down and helping to lift someone up.'  ~~ Anonymous.  We do not have to go it alone, nor do we need to fear talking about what troubles us.  Life gives us the circumstances and obstacles, it is our task to find ways of coping, dealing and finding ways to move through our circumstances and obstacles.  Know that you are not alone, ever!

Blessings! and until we meet again.

 

From this day forward...

Thirty-one years ago today, I was preparing for the most exciting day of my life.  Today my husband Tony and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary.  As many of you who have celebrated anniversaries, birthdays, or any monumental moments in your life know, there is so much that marks each passing year.  Yes, there are many times in my life that I would like to change, redirect, or eradicate completely, but alas! that wouldn't lead me to where I am today.  

So where am I exactly? That's a great question, and I am sure there is a philosophical response out there somewhere.  But for now, suffice it to say I am where I need to be.  (Sorry, it sounds so cliche!)  Okay, sometimes I really don't know where I am, or let alone know where I'm going.  And unfortunately life does not come equipped with a GPS; so there is no voice reminding me to take the next left or that I am going in the wrong direction.   Over the years I have found myself at times getting to my next destination unscathed, other times having had to make detours along the way, and still other times, totally confused and lost.  Each wrong turn, each moment of total confusion, each dead end, led me to a new awakening, a revelation into who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming.  

For those of you who do not know me, I love getting lost!  Yes! I do.  Always the adventurer, I will often take a wrong turn on purpose to see where it will lead me (unless my husband is in the car).  I will take long drives (even though gas prices are out of this world), camera in hand, and just let the road lead me.  On occasion, I will take a turn that leaves me a bit scared, frightened or totally disoriented.  At these moments, I stop, say a quick prayer for guidance, and retrace my steps.  

Life is so similar, we head out in one direction, finding ourselves going no where near our original itinerary.  When I look back over these 31 years, I can see so many welcomed and unwelcomed detours, dead ends and seemingly endless roads.  My life has been so filled with happiness and sadness, blessings and curses, new beginnings and sudden stops, and yet looking back, I wouldn't change it all that much.  Not that I liked everything about it, but I do like who I have become, and where these bumps have taken me.  

Like so many of us, we have all had our share of ups and downs, but if we allow them to shape and mold us, we become ever stronger, ever more resilient, and we learn to learn from these experiences.  Thinking back to my wedding day thirty-one years ago, I remember being so full of anticipation, so full of hope, and so filled with a wonderment and the excitement of a new beginning.  

Every day is a new beginning for each and everyone of us.  Every new day gives us the choice of discovering who we are, and where we are going.  I am no stranger to loss as you are all very much aware of, and losing my daughter was definitely one of those moments when I came to a sudden stop; when all of a sudden, I had no idea where I was, where I was going, or even who I was.  To say I was frightened and scared would be an understatement at the very least.  

It has been five years, going on six, and I am slowly finding my way.  In that first year after my daughter's death, I was totally lost, totally in the dark, but somehow I continued to travel.  Even though I had no idea where I was going, I chose to allow the road to lead me.  I was very blessed to have wonderful people in my life who served as guides, who where willing to hold up road signs on my journey; and who occasionally would take the 'wheel' when I was totally lost.  I also learned that I sometimes needed to stop and as for directions.  For me it was finding a counselor, someone who would hear me, listen to me, and allow me to say anything and everything, that was jumbled up in my mind.  Someone who had no personal connection to me, my life, or any preconceived notions about me at all.  

If I may impart one small iota of advice, no matter what you are going through, do not attempt to go it alone.  Find someone who is willing to listen, to hear you, and allow you to be who you need to be at that particular moment in your life.  Counseling was a great help to me, also finding support groups with like-minded people (that is people who have experience a loss similar to mine), and just having family and friends who were willing to 'just be there' for me, helped me out of tight situations, dead ends, and wrong turns.

We all face change, challenges and crises in our lives, it is what we do with them that defines who we become.  In the midst of all this celebrating, I am also celebrating my birthday, and when people ask me my age, they hesitate (one - there is the unspoken rule that you don't ask a woman her age; and two - there is the fear that you might just not be welcoming this new year), but I don't mind, I am actually very proud of my years.  I have a mantra that I live by,  'I love were I have been, I cherish where I am, and I look forward to where I am going.'  God willing I will have many more years ahead of me, both in anniversaries and birthdays, and I pray that I will always welcome the adventures that lie ahead.  

Take the journey, live your life, and live it as fully as you can.  Remember also, that even though our loved ones are no longer physically with us, they are always with us, always near, always in our hearts.  They now serve as guides and companions in our life-long journey, an integral part of who we are.  Their love surrounds us and protects us in ways we cannot fathom or understand, and that for me is the greatest comfort of all.

Blessings! and until we meet again.

Four Funerals and a Wedding!

It has been quite a busy time for my family and I, so much has happened in the past few weeks.  The events have brought with them a multitude of emotions, as well as getting under old scars and wounds that I'd felt were beginning to fully heal.  

I have had several funerals, all involving family members or very close friends, each a poignant reminder of my loss, of how much it hurts, and how much they are going to be missed.  Wakes and funerals still have a sting, still cause me to feel a lump in my throat, I walk in with a strong sense of apprehension; to say it is one of my least favorite activities, would be an understatement.  

In the midst of all this, my daughter was planning her wedding celebration.  A small affair by my family standards, but still an emotional, eventful and joy-filled day.  Very contrasting events, that have an overwhelming way of playing havoc with one's emotions.  Events that both speak of life, love, and ironically, new beginnings.  Both require adjustments, changes, new perspectives, and the courage to step totally out of one's comfort zone.  

Amazingly, our lives are filled with life-changing events, from births to deaths, from weddings to divorces, from having a roof over our head to becoming homeless, from beginning a new job to facing unemployment, from buying your first home to losing it to the bank, and the list can go on and on.  All these events and so many more have profound ways of changing our lives, of changing who we are.  But it is the events and happenings in our lives, that form us, making us who we are, helping us become who we can be.  

The past five years of my life, I have witnessed a dramatic change in me.  I have hopefully changed for the better.  I know I have much more compassion for others, I am more willing to see beyond the surface and recognize the hurt that lies beneath.  I have learned to tilt life and events, and see it from as many angles as possible.  I have embraced my own weakness and in doing so have found unfathomable strength, and have gained the ability to recognize it in others.  My loss and life has taught me so much, my only hope is that I can continue to be a willing pupil.  

Life is not always fair, it definitely follows it's own set of rules, but if we are open, we can learn so much from it.  I recently read a quote that speaks volumes to me, from Testing 101: 'When you are going through something hard and wonder where God is remember the teacher is always quiet during a test.'  For me this quote was reassurance that I am not alone, ever.  That my faith, my beliefs, have helped me cope during life's 'tests' and that somehow I found myself guided through the difficulty.  

We will always be faced with trials, we will always come across challenges, how we cope and where we seek help, determines the length of the journey.  My journey has not diminished, my journey is definitely not complete and probably never will be, but I know that through every up and down, through every dark tunnel, I will somehow find my way, will make it.  I will be able to attend life's happy and sad occasions and recognize the gift in every event.  For my family, the blessing of a wonderful son-in-law, beautiful grandchildren, and the promise of life filled with love and laughter.  For those whose loved ones died, the blessing of the life lived, of the friendships shared, of the memories created and cherished, and the joy of knowing that their lives were filled with love and laughter.

Life is a gift!  A gift to be cherished and cared for, to live each day as if it is the only one that matters, to truly LIVE LIFE remembering to take no-one for granted.  And to hold onto our faith, to cling to hope, and to always remember that no mater what - Love conquers all!

Blessings! and until we meet again. 

Oh so many pieces...

'Look at this photograph...'  Not only did I hear the Nickelback song quite often on the radio, but photos of my daughter popped up in the most unlikely of places. 

There was a recent celebration at our parish for a young man who is about to be ordained, and in a shadow box, were photos of his life.  The photos spanned from his birth up into the present, representing key events in his life and individuals who were an important part of it.  My daughter and father's pictures were among them, a beautiful tribute to what they meant in his life.  He and my daughter are the same age, and had played together as children and had even traveled together, spending time at my parents home in Florida when they were young.  They were friends who were so much more like family. 

My day had began like any typical Sunday morning, up a little later, get ready for Church, take care of our faith formation program and then try to enjoy being with family and friends.  But something told me early on that the day would be a little different.  I awoke to my dog knocking something over and hearing it shatter across the tile floor.  Then as I cleaned up last night's cups and dishes, a glass decided it had had enough and slid off the counter, shattering into finite pieces.  I am not generally superstitious, but my mind wondered if maybe it was trying to tell me something. I swept up the shards and didn't give it another thought.

Later on in the day I received a message from a friend of Rachel's letting me know about a dream she had had a while back.  She emailed me the details of the dream, telling me she felt compelled to share this dream with me, but had hesitated for fear of upsetting me.  She wasn't sure what it all meant, but somehow felt I needed to be aware of it. 

So now I fast-forward to the celebration and the young man's family continually asking me if I had seen the photo.  Yes I had, and thank you, was my reply.  But as the evening progressed and I began to realize the significance of that particular photo, and what my family had meant to this young man; my emotions could not and would not be contained. 

Then it hit me all at once, and now my tears refused to stop.  The broken pieces, the message and the photo all seemed to have a certain relevance.  It was as if I was being reminded that my life is still a mess of broken pieces, there are, and will always be missing pieces and shards, and a reminder that I will never be completely whole again; there will always be that piece that nothing else can replace. 

Then there is the message, a reminder that Rachel is always near, that she is okay and that she somehow finds ways to let me know.  Ironically, the messages seem to appear when I need them most or when events in my life remind me of what is missing.  

We may not always be aware of their presence, we may sometimes ignore it as nonsense, but our loved ones and dear friends are very near.  They watch over us and let us know that we are loved and that the love transcends even from beyond the grave and death.  

It is comforting to know that we are not alone.  Yes, our lives will not be the same, in putting back the broken, shattered pieces of our lives, there will always be that elusive piece.  The one piece that somehow cannot be glued together, that no longer fits, or is simply gone.  But it is in the brokenness that light penetrates, that life penetrates, that we learn to live again. 

I am learning to live again, to accept the brokenness of my life, and to live anew.  I cherish the missing shards, and cracked exterior, knowing that I am loved and that love will always comfort me, surround me.  And the most amazing discovery for me, is that I am whole, even though I am broken.  I am unique, and the missing pieces of my life, allows me to recognize the beauty in this.  I have come to see that true strength is not measured by the amount of weight a person can lift; but how a persons learns to lift themselves up when all else fails.

Blessings! and until we meet again.